The Make of Chaos 5
by BlueJuvenal
Summary: Morgan and James try to stop a Dark staff-maker.  All characters are original, with concepts by J. K. Rowling.


**Tuesday, November 15****th****, 2:21 AM**

James backed away from Charles. His knees were loose, and his stomach was numb. The lamp on the hallway desk was bathing Charles' brutal eyes in a soft light. James could smell the whiskey on his breath, and he knew he had no chance of reasoning with him. Not tonight. It must have been one of those days on the streets, where the very soot in the air seems to despise you.

Charles called James a horrible name, a name designed to squash the spirit of a woman. James brushed it from his mind as best he could, knowing it would leave a stain. He tried to remember the good days with Charles, when they first entered Auror training together. He was so adventurous, humorous, full of attractive, glistening life. He charmed every witch and wizard he met without a single wave of his wand. Could James really blame himself if he fell so hard for him?

Charles stepped quickly forward and hit James hard on the side of the head. James felt dazed; he was submerging into a lake of disbelief. Next there was another punch, and another, and James was on the ground, for some reason not even bothering to reach for his wand. When the kicking began, James' only objective was to stop himself from retching on the carpet. The carpet at that moment was absurdly important to him. His mouth was closer to it than it had been to Charles in over a month.

The ground gave way beneath James, and he was tumbling down the stairs like a dead animal. His mind began circling around itself as his body crashed against each wooden step. As he hit the bottom, he felt his hip fracture, and he had difficulty moving his neck. There was laughter from the top of the stairs. It was when James heard Charles laugh that he finally felt the rage boil his heart. He felt his wand prodding him within his bathrobes; it wanted to be unleashed, to be the instrument of his warped energy. James didn't yet reach for it, because he knew when he did, he was only going to cast one curse with it.

The laughter rippled the air around James' head; he could feel the sound from above nudge his arm into his pocket. He didn't fight his fury anymore. He wanted out of this burning house, and he wanted to make a statement as well: He wanted Charles to know that he was capable of evil too. He pulled out his trembling, swarthy wand and pointed it upwards. He screamed with a broken voice.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

There was a green flash. James looked back up the stairs. Charles was staring at James in shock; the spell had missed him. James hoped it didn't miss him by much. Charles spun around and marched towards the bedroom. As the door slammed, James let himself sob uncontrollably. His spasms of grief were causing him pain in his abdomen, but the hurt seemed muted, as if it was the faint, ghastly moan of a dying woman two houses down.

"James! Hon, wake up!"

James opened his eyes and felt the tears lose their heat on the sides of his face. He looked over and Jaime's fragrant, brown hair was brushing his forehead. He shook his head and propped himself on his elbows. He reached for Jaime and held her against his chest. Jaime's breath was slow against his skin.

"You were having a nightmare. Do you want to talk about it?"

James cleared the phlegm from his throat and stroked Jaime's hair.

"It's okay, babe. It's all right now. Let's get back to sleep."

Jaime didn't answer him, and soon James felt her mouth fall open in slumber. He fell back against his pillow and tried not to think about anything. He couldn't stop his eyes from pushing hard against his lids for the rest of the night.

**5:30 AM**

"It's five-thirty in the morning." The skull said out loud on the bedside table. Todd rolled onto his back and stretched his arms in the air. The room was cold and still dark. Todd liked his alarm skull, but he decided he didn't like its reasoned voice. Skulls should speak a little nastier. He would tinker with it after breakfast and see what happened.

He picked up his wand from the table and flicked it; its tip glowed red. He put it back down and looked at Wendy lying next to him with the covers stripped down from her bare back. Cutting her black hair short was his idea; that way, if she ever wore a backless dress, her tattoo would be completely visible. Todd looked at the large, black spider between her shoulder blades; the witch's hat it wore was a little corny, but the bloody, Muggle body parts it was grasping in its eight claws were beautiful. Wendy on the inside was a beautiful person, and Todd was glad her tattoo reflected that quality.

Wendy stirred and picked something out of her eye. She made a small hum with her mouth.

"What time is it?"

"It's five-thirty one in the morning." The skull said in the same dispassionate tone.

Todd sat up. "I'm going to give that skull a different voice. How 'bout something along the lines of Vincent Price?"

Wendy rolled over and looked at Todd with a pair of nervous, blue eyes. "Oh, don't, Todd. I like its voice. It's so. .even, like the silence after a storm of death."

Todd laughed and kissed Wendy on the head. "Well, if you put it that way, maybe I'll leave it alone."

Todd stood up and kissed Wendy's arm as it hung over the bed. "Come on, love, let's go make some doughnuts."

**7:03 AM**

Morgan rang the buzzer in the lobby and the door clicked open. She walked up the stairs, careful to keep her overcoat closely wrapped around her. With every step she saw a shimmer of emerald green by her leg, but with no Muggles walking towards her, she didn't feel bothered by it.

Morgan did not enjoy getting into fights with her daughter, Circe, but sometimes they were inevitable. Last night, Circe refused to do her homework, claiming it was 'Muggle crap'. Morgan stung her with a hex from her wand, and told her she was grounded for the rest of the week. Morgan hated seeing that injured look on her daughter's face. Circe ran to her father, Confessor, and hasn't spoken a word to Morgan since the incident. Morgan considered what Circe said and wondered what it was about ignorance that made children want to inherit it.

Morgan knocked on the wood below the brass apartment number. Jaime opened the door and offered Morgan a cheerful smile. Morgan smiled faintly in return.

"Good morning, Jaime. I hope all is well."

"Morgan! I'm guessing you're here for James. Please, come in."

Morgan entered the apartment while Jaime hustled over to the kitchen and poured coffee.

"Make sure you hold onto James tightly this morning, if you're Apparating. He had trouble sleeping last night."

Morgan frowned. A blue jay outside the window cawed.

"I'll be extra careful with him."

James entered the living room and nodded to Morgan. Together, the two cousins bade Jaime farewell and left. Morgan stopped James on the first landing of the stairs. 

"Jaime said you didn't sleep last night."

James looked at Morgan pathetically. "It was just a dream I had. Don't worry about it."

Morgan grabbed him by the arm. "James, I'm serious; you are to start drinking that potion I gave you. If you want, I can drop off the ingredients and you can make it yourself, if that suits you. Today's going to be a big day, and I need you at your best."

James looked away uncomfortably. "It's just. . I can't get his laughter out of my head."

Morgan felt a pang of guilt, but she kept her face stern. "We're not going to get into it right now, but know that I didn't sleep for a month after that night, so please don't think you can get over it in a couple days. We are bonded, but we need to practice establishing our personal parameters. How do you think I felt when I saw your fiancée?" Morgan huffed and looked down. She regretted she said this. "Let's not walk. I want to get to headquarters quickly. I have to show you something." Morgan raised her arm horizontally. James grabbed it firmly after a second, and the two of them disappeared from the building altogether.

**7:19 AM**

They reappeared in a parking lot behind an abandoned store. Tall, wooden fences and cracked, concrete walls surrounded them. James saw that weeds sprouted dauntlessly from the crevices at his feet. By the store was a cellar hatch that looked rusted shut. Morgan walked briskly up to it, tapped the handle with her wand, and stood back as the hatch sprung open. James joined her and the two of them descended the stairs and entered a wide, dimly lit, lobby. A sweet, female voice echoed off the walls.

"Welcome to the United States League of Aurors. ." A white light briefly illuminated Morgan. ". .Captain Westerling, and. ." The light moved to James. ". .Agent McBride. You may proceed."

A door materialized in the stone wall, and James and Morgan walked through it. After they descended several more stairs and greeted several witches and wizards, they reached Morgan's office.

"Take a look at those two staves on your desk. Please don't touch them." Morgan directed as she hung her coat up.

James approached his desk and looked at the staves. He recognized the first, which was made of wood and was topped with a blackened skull. The other was of identical design, but crowned by a red skull.

"I know the black one. That Karl guy had it in the graveyard the night of the Quidditch match."

Morgan walked over and stood next to James. "Yes. The red one was wielded by Winston Froad when he attacked us. Take a look at the wood near the bottom of both."

James examined the round ends and noticed that a small, black spider was painted on both. He looked up at Morgan.

"What do the spiders mean?"

"I believe they are wizard marks, which would indicate that both staves were created by the same person."

"That would make sense, since they look alike. What did we get out of Karl when he was in lockup?"

"The only thing he could tell us was the name of his seller." Morgan pointed her wand over her shoulder, and a transparent, revolving bust of a man appeared. He had a massively thick neck and a very wide, flat nose. James thought he looked familiar. "His name is Octavian Brutt. He's a small-time fence who usually operates out of New York, and sometimes D. C. and Philly. He might be trying to broaden his professional horizons if he's unloading Dark objects like these."

James looked at Morgan. "You know him."

Morgan nodded. "I brought him in for questioning a year ago. Pleasant guy, let me tell you."

"What does Froad know?" James asked.

"He concurs that Brutt was the one who sold him the staff, and he also gave us the meeting place."

James sprang away from the table. "Let's go check it out."

"James."

James slowly looked at his cousin. Her tone promised trouble. He tried to head it off.

"Morgan, I'm fine. Lack of sleep doesn't bother me all that much."

Morgan walked up to him. "Before we leave, I want us to go to the meditation chamber and breathe for an hour. It will help ground us."

James looked at Morgan curiously. "Whatever you say, boss."

**7:49 AM**

The Muggle children shuffled in past Wendy as she stood at the classroom door. She waved to a few of the departing parents and patted a few of their kids on their colorful heads. The sky this morning was the image of ash. Wendy thought ash would be a lovely shade of human skin.

She closed the door and listened to all the babble issue from the children's mouths. It had the distinct flavor of chaos, like the disorder of bird feathers after a cat has eaten the bird. She remembered someone once told her that nature maintains a balance, but Wendy didn't believe it. If a squirrel could topple every tree in a neighborhood to retrieve an acorn, it would do so without hesitation. Nature was a balloon let go at a carnival, floating through the sky for everyone to wonder at it. Eventually, it would lose all of its steam and hang limp from a telephone wire.

Wendy watched all of her brood, laughing, shouting, scratching themselves, swinging their awkward legs beneath their small desks. Some of the children smelled horribly, but Wendy didn't bother to say anything about it. The idea of something smelling was so ridiculously Earth-bound. When all the particles of this senseless planet were redistributed throughout the cosmos, no one would be around to smell anything.

Todd told Wendy his latest staff would be finished today, and it would be his most gruesome yet. This knowledge comforted Wendy as she tried to get the children to quiet down. Maybe today could finally be the day when she sets death free, like a puppy let loose in a yard. Wendy drew her wand from her dress and tapped it on the table. The children looked at her inquisitively, expectantly, as if she were going to show them a magic trick. Not yet, kids, not yet.

"Good morning, everyone! Why don't we learn a song today?"

**10:26 AM**

James sat against the wall of the building holding a water bottle concealed in a brown, paper bag. He scratched at the whiskers Morgan magically grew on his face. He remembered trying to grow a goatee once, and his mother saying how terrible it looked. Maybe after today, he would keep the whiskers.

Morgan was lingering somewhere out of sight. Crowds of people were walking down the street, most looking glum. The forecast called for rain off and on. He saw a few hobos across the street glare at him and shake their heads in spite. James shuffled his hips and was comforted by the metal butt of the Glock in his pocket.

Morgan was not in a good mood this morning. James figured it had to do with the heightened emotions produced from their bonding ritual. Their meditation session seemed ineffective. James saw in his head the counseling she went through, the divorce proceedings, and the soft comfort Confessor provided her. He was glad to know she married her best friend in the end. Jaime once asked Morgan what made her get a tattoo, and James remembered her not giving a direct answer. James understood that if Jaime knew, at such a young period in their friendship, that Morgan transfigured her face so she wouldn't have to look at the scar Charles left her with, it might cause a bit of awkwardness. People are full of awkwardness, but somehow we pretend we're perfectly polished beings, James thought.

A man walked past him on the sidewalk. He had an enormous neck and a very flat nose. He didn't seem to notice James. James gave a loud cough and leaned forward. As the man got to the edge of the building, Morgan stepped out in front of him, grabbed him violently by the throat, turned on her heel, and Disapparated with him in tow. A few pedestrians looked around in wonder, and after deciding their eyes were playing tricks on them, they plodded on their way. James remembered a lecture Morgan attended when a wizard with an English accent told the audience that Muggles rarely notice magic, even when it happens right under their noses.

After a minute Morgan again walked out from the brick-lined alley. She was alone. James got to his feet and met her.

"Any problems?"

Morgan shook her head. There was a gleam in her brown eyes, as if she had spied helpless prey. James knew what hunting meant to Morgan. He was glad she appeared a bit more cheerful.

"Let's go." She said.

The two cousins walked back around the alley and looked to make sure they were alone. Morgan took James' hand, twisted her body, and both of them vanished with a pop.

**10:38 AM**

Morgan led James down the hallway to the interrogation chamber. She remembered a time when James grew agitated with a suspect and had to be restrained.

"Let me do the talking." She told her cousin.

Morgan thought again of Circe's wounded face. Next year she would start at Salem, and Morgan understood she would have even less control over her. Who knows what ideas would ram themselves into her head while she was there? What more could Morgan do to make sure she grew up happy, safe, and valuable to society? Morgan knew that parents have children, but they never really belong to them.

After passing over several magical barriers, Morgan and James entered a plain cell with a wooden table in the middle. Octavian Brutt was sitting in a chair, and when he saw Morgan, he smiled.

"Hey, long time no see, sweets. Who's the stiff?"

Morgan smiled in return, but did not respond to his question. James stood against the wall and eyed Brutt aggressively. Morgan stood against the table.

"Octavian, we need to know who sold you the skull staves. If you tell us, I can make it easier on you with the judge."

Octavian snorted. "I didn't do anything wrong! I was just walking down the street when you abducted me! Maybe I should see the judge about _you_."

Morgan remained cool. "Playing nice with us would be in your best interests, Octavian, so please answer my question."

Octavian looked from James to Morgan and appeared flabbergasted. "Wait a minute; you're partnered with a _Muggle_? I pay taxes into the League for this?"

Morgan felt the dam burst on her temper. She slashed at Brutt with her wand; he immediately became rigid. Morgan saw James push off from the wall. She put her face very close to Brutt's and gazed searchingly into his terrified eyes.

"It's tough, isn't it, Octavian, to use Occlumency, when the very neurons of your brain are frozen."

Morgan reached into his mind and saw what she needed to see. She plucked a hair from his beard, turned away, and motioned to James.

"Let's get to the file chamber."

As she and James left the room, she prodded her wand behind her; the door shut, and she heard Brutt gasp with relief.

**10:55 AM**

Todd ran his wand over the wood of the staff. He loved using walnut for his creations, but sometimes he had to settle for pine or white ash. The dark wood shone magnificently under the lighted wand tip. He loved giving the wood that perfect curve, allowing a witch or wizard's fingers to rest luxuriously.

The skull on top was vomit-green. He summoned it from the cemetery last night. It once belonged to a man who died not even fifty years ago. Summoning skulls was a lot of fun; it was neat to see what kind you would get. Most were normal looking, but a few had cracks and were oddly shaped. Todd would smell them once they left the earth and swear he could still detect hair spray or brylcreem.

The sizes of skulls are convenient, Todd thought. Adult skulls could of course be used as candle-holders, but you could you also use them as Christmas tree toppers, paper weights, and alarm clocks. If you turn skulls upside down and stopper up the holes, they make very attractive candy dishes. Children skulls, once you extract the teeth, are nice to play catch with on a rainy day. Their tender, round tops are gentle against the palms.

Todd looked at the green skull and had no intention of keeping it round. He pointed his wand at the crown and began muttering to himself in a forgotten, wicked language. The bone matter rippled as he spoke and transformed into a triangular nozzle. Todd smiled and started brushing his wand tip against the skull, watching it glow green. Brutt wasn't getting this one from him cheaply, no way. With this one he might be able to pay off the mortgage. He was sad he couldn't keep it, but he at least took comfort from the idea that the staff would take its place in the world, helping to sow the seeds of chaos.

**11:03 AM**

James walked with Morgan into the massive file chamber. Everywhere, on round tables, were crystal balls set in silver claws. Several Aurors were bent over a few of the balls, swishing their wands to and fro, causing images and words to form in front of their faces. James went over to a free table and Morgan followed him. James saw her close her eyes and tap the crystal with her wand. After a second, a revolving, transparent bust of a young wizard appeared over her head. She opened her eyes and waved her wand at the image; the bust shrank and crammed itself into the wooden point. James folded his arms over his chest.

"Talk to me."

"His name is Todd Goldhammer. There is no criminal record. He lives in Burlington, Vermont. From the Legilimency, I discovered he has sold Brutt a dozen staves, all of the skull-top design, all of different colors."

James let his shoulders slump. "The black one could raise the dead, for God's sake, and there's at least _ten_ others?"

Morgan stowed her wand and looked at James. "We have to concede the fact that we're probably never going to find all of them. The best we can do is to apprehend the maker."

"How do you want to do it?"

Morgan pondered for a moment. "Goldhammer, if he is the staff-maker, will have his workshop well protected. Anyone who has the skill to craft objects like these is undoubtedly very cunning, powerful, and dangerous. We will have to employ deception."

James saw Morgan pinch Brutt's beard hair between her fingers. He smiled.

"We can do deception."

**11:45 AM**

Wendy watched the children play in the yard next to the classroom. She tapped her index finger against the tip of her wand every other second, letting the magic of the wood sting her skin. The rain was falling gently, but it sounded cold against the windowpane. Billy and Gerald and Tommie were pushing the other kids around, letting them know what game they wanted to play. The concept of martial law occurred very early in people, and people had a remarkable knack at accepting it.

Wendy despised law. Part of the glory of death was that even while it imposed its own unyielding rule on everything, it delighted to see lawlessness erupt in its wake. Or at least Wendy liked to believe it did. Humans had no definition without death, because if people could live forever, they would inevitably become everything humanly possible, and therefore would be indefinable. Death gave us boundary, and boundary gave us beauty.

The children huddled under the gutter-lined overhang. They shivered and begged Wendy to let them back in the classroom. Wendy smiled at them and scratched the cold glass with her wand. She enjoyed power, but after a while didn't really know what to do with it. She always left power to Todd. He could dominate the planet, wizards and Muggles alike if he wished, as long as he allowed Wendy her pen of toys, children, and death.

Wendy thought about Todd and the staff he said he was working on. Maybe during the children's naptime she would Apparate to the workshop and surprise him. She loved his staves, and she loved to watch him retrieve skulls. Last night, Wendy summoned a skull with the flesh still patched around it, and handed it to Todd. He laughed, picked her up, and told her he loved her. Wendy wanted him to take her right then and there in the graveyard, but Todd was eager to get back and start his work. Maybe Wendy would give him incentive this afternoon to take a break. She laughed and let the wet children back into the room.

**12:13 PM**

James rapped his knuckles hard on the garage door. His fingers felt and looked very thick. His neck bulged so much, he wondered how Brutt ever managed to turn his head from side to side. In his stomach he felt the Polyjuice potion congeal with his tuna sandwich. He was nauseous for moment, but then remembered Morgan's psychic Auror training and the bit about compartmentalization of sensation. He took a deep breath and went over in his head the hundreds of defensive curses, jinxes, charms, and hexes she knew. By the sixteenth spell he had forgotten his queasiness.

There was a series of bangs and the door faded away from sight. A young wizard with dark hair and large eyebrows looked at James crossly. Behind him James could see several tables with differing metal contraptions on each. On one table he saw a staff with a green skull attached to the top.

"What are you doing here? I told you I'd summon you when it was ready." The wizard stated.

James stayed composed and smiled at the wizard. "I was just in the neighborhood and I'd figure I'd inspect the goods, that's all."

Todd's irritation transformed into an energetic greed. He spoke excitedly.

"It's the best yet! Sorry, Brutt, but you're paying up the nose for this one!"

Todd backed away from the passage and looked behind him. He eyed the staff and then looked again at James. He appeared undecided about something. James figured he was a brilliant staff-smith, but his brilliance overfed his ego, and his ego was his weakness.

"Alright, you can come in for a second. Just don't touch it!"

The air around the doorway twinkled, and James breached the threshold. He let his hormones pump inside his chest, allowing them to sharpen his reflexes. After he took two steps into the garage, he heard Morgan's robes flutter next to him. He didn't bother to watch her become visible, but drew his Glock from his holster. Todd looked confused for a second, and that was all the time the cousins needed. Before he could fully comprehend the situation, both James and Morgan unloaded on him with Stunning rounds and spells. Todd fell flat on his back and was still.

Morgan flicked her wand and imprisoned Todd with metallic chains and clamps. James looked around and felt his innards curl; the skull staff on the table was gone.

As he crouched and darted his pistol from spot to spot, he screamed at his cousin.

"Morgan! Eyes! Eyes!"

Morgan tensed and searched the room quickly. There was a sharp thud, and James saw Morgan fall to the paint-covered cement. A young, thin woman with cropped, jet-black hair became visible. She thrust the green-skulled staff at James, but he deflected it with his arm and, instinctively, pistol-whipped the girl in the face. She dropped the staff and fell to her side.

James stood over her with bulging eyes. He aimed his Glock at her heaving chest. She propped herself up and rubbed her cheek. For an instant, James saw himself on the bottom of the stairwell, tending to his injuries with a pair of helpless hands. He heard the laughter from the landing. The girl moved quickly, and James discharged his piece. Three red orbs of magic exploded against her blouse and she became inert.

Morgan stood up gingerly and slashed her wand at the woman; she, like her cohort, was enmeshed in iron. Morgan next twirled her wand around the garage; nothing happened and she relaxed.

"The room is clear." She said quietly.

James holstered his piece and tried to assist his cousin.

"Morgan. ."

"It's okay, James, it's just a bump."

James looked at her pleadingly. His mouth twitched with anguish.

"I didn't see her. I looked over and the staff was gone. ."

Morgan examined him and James was amazed at how weary her eyes were.

"She was magically concealed. Either she didn't know how to properly wield the staff, or the staff is not entirely functional."

James glanced back down at the unconscious woman. A blue welt had formed on her face. James heard Morgan wet her lips.

"I know what it was when you saw her on the ground. You did well not to hesitate too long."

James put his hands on his hips and looked at the wall. A black spider was dancing against the cinderblock. He tried to keep his brain still.

"There was no laughter." Morgan stated baldly.

James turned around. Morgan looked like someone was sticking her with a needle.

"Charles never laughed from the top of those stairs. I made myself believe he did so it would be easier for me to kill him."

James continued to stare at her. He felt the body of Brutt magically melt away. Morgan didn't flinch as she absorbed his transformation and gaze.

"If you search that memory carefully, you will know what I say is true."

James looked down at his feet. They appeared for a second to belong to a child.

"I don't want to search it."

A clock was ticking somewhere behind the magical machinery. James looked up and saw a smile flicker on Morgan's mouth.

"I know."

James saw Morgan sigh and glance at the stupefied man and woman. She spoke professionally, defiantly.

"We will set up drills this week and work on positioning and action sequence."

She bent down and grabbed both the fallen witch and wizard. She looked up at James.

"Hold onto my shoulder, and don't forget the staff."

James picked up the staff. He patted Morgan's shoulder before he pressed down on it firmly. Morgan spun on her heels and all four of them Disapparated away from the workshop.

**3:27 PM**

Morgan felt Confessor's lips touch the top of her head. She leaned back into his body and smiled. She found his hand and held it as they sat on the couch, waiting for Circe to come home.

After Morgan left Charles, Confessor found her. He always seemed to find her. She told him about the attack, but didn't go into detail. Confessor never pushed her on the issue, never tried to sift through the images in her head. He always just held her and told her it was okay if she wanted to talk. The strength and comfort of his arms tempted Morgan to believe in the idea of fate.

Morgan considered what her parents would think of her if they knew she tried to kill Charles. They would try to understand her provocation, her raw reaction. They would forgive her. Did Circe understand that Morgan would always forgive her, too? Morgan's love would be a fixture of light for her, even as circumstances and consequences surrounded her in the dark.

Morgan wished she could wipe away all the mistakes Circe would make in life with a wave of her wand, but in the end she knew it would only make Circe a weaker person. James made mistakes, endured suffering, and afterwards pushed his head out of the water and kept swimming. No one left life without burns, but Morgan believed on an instinctual level everyone knew this. She enjoyed the idea that knowledge was a fertile breeding ground for compassion.

Circe fiddled at the front door and Confessor and Morgan stood up. Morgan smiled at her daughter as she walked into the room. Secretly and selfishly, she was proud that Circe looked very much like her, even with her father's raven hair. Morgan was bewildered at how much of a fixture Circe was in her own life, like the same dawn at the beginning of each different day.

Circe looked at her parents, rolled her eyes, and marched upstairs to her room with her backpack dangling behind her. Morgan heard her bedroom door slam shut. She closed her eyes and gave her husband a hug. A giggle broke from her lips. Confessor released her.

"What is it, sugar?"

Morgan looked up into his dark, handsome face and admired the way his hair hung, like the fronds of a medicinal plant.

"She's home, Connie, and I'm glad she is."


End file.
